


Where I told you to run so we'd both be free

by akachankami



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, bombing of D13, mockingjay movie canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-15
Updated: 2017-09-15
Packaged: 2018-12-29 23:22:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12095697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/akachankami/pseuds/akachankami
Summary: "When the first Capitol bomb hits the ground it's like an earthquake and it feels somehow familiar" - Mockingjay, bombing of D13 from Haymitch's point of view





	Where I told you to run so we'd both be free

**Author's Note:**

> 100 words drabbles written after watching the movie in 2014, posted first on ffnet in that timeframe

**1.**

When the first Capitol bomb hits the ground it's like an earthquake and it feels somehow familiar, like falling off the edge of the bed while drunk, like spiralling into darkness as the day dies and there's no one in the house to turn the lights on.

He distracts himself counting the blasts but somewhere around forty the thundering of explosions above resembles too much a cannon going off in the arena. So he tries to stray his thoughts again but all that comes to mind is Katniss' song. Except it's not her voice singing in his head... it's Effie's.

**2.**

Every child knows the best defense against monsters and nightmares is a thick blanket over their head. She must know though, since she's not a child anymore, Thirteen's issued blankets aren't thick enough for that task. Even then, Effie Trinket is curled up in hers, pale thin fingers gripping a corner of the rough fabric the only visible part of her.

He kneels on the ground next to her bed and in the space between detonations and cries, when plaster dust fills the air and collects on their clothes, he speaks:

_I wish I was drunk out of my mind_.

**3.**

Her grip slacks so he hooks a finger on the blanket and lifts it just enough to see clear empty eyes staring back.  _I wish you were all dolled up_ , he says.

She blinks and her grip closes around his finger, pulling, till his hand is snugly under her chin, against her warm throat, and he can choose to give in to the pull or leave his fingerprints on her neck... But he can't, so he rests next to her and quivers, already tasting the loss on his lips when she whispers against them:

_I will never not like you._


End file.
